


Playing House

by Condensedcream



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Breath Mints, Canon Age, F/M, Forced Masturbation, Null anatomy, Weird-horny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:15:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22565368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Condensedcream/pseuds/Condensedcream
Summary: Precisely what the tags say. Takes place mid KH 3.
Relationships: Angelic Amber/Sora
Comments: 5
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

Sora was on a mission. A quick, easy, three step mission.

Step one, duck into the mall.

Step two, snap a photo of the Verum Rex cutout.

Step three, show Riku.

What Sora hadn’t anticipated was a secret step hidden between the first and the second.

Step one and a half: Get lost.

Sora had made it through two air ducts, a spider web, and one ball pit before he stopped to admit to himself what was happening. The cutout he recalled, but the path itself was jumbled in his memory. A tangle of thrilling fights and adventure. The frogs were cool, too. They had good taste in music.

Above him, disco balls spun slowly. He watched their twinkle in the low light as it reflected onto the floor, an upside down sky full of stars.

Pretty, but no Verum Rex.

“Back already?”

Sora blinked back to the rest of his surroundings as he looked up from where he’d stopped to think, toy displays stacked high and looming above him. Xehanort, youthful and with his usual pompous air stood atop a pyramid of teddy bears with crushed velvet bowties and overstuffed bodies.

It made him look a little stupid, and a lot non-threatening.

“Should I not be?” Sora asked.

“I would have thought someone like you would rush to save your friends.”  
  
“I’m still going to save them!”

“And yet something interests you more here. Or perhaps it’s preferable to facing the consequences of your actions.”

Sora braced his legs against the floor as irritation flared in his chest, his fingers curling into an empty grip as he readied to summon his keyblade.

“Why are you bothering to talk to me? I don’t need your gibberish predictions.”

In the time it took for Sora to blink again, Xehanort was gone. In the time it took to blink twice, he was back. Closer now— too close. It made it harder than ever to ignore that he was a weird sort of handsome that Sora could get moony-eyed about.

A can of worms Sora needed to keep a lid on for now.

“I’ve been as clear and concise as I can be,” Xehanort said. Were those breath mints Sora smelled? “It’s up to you if you wish to believe the truth.”

He smiled after that.

The hair on the back of Sora’s neck stood on end as he jerked back. There was no malice or cruelty in that look, only a muted mischief and something akin to sympathy. It made Sora worry to think what could cause Xehanort of all people to feel bad for him.

“Is it a fight you want?” Sora asked. “Because you don’t need to make excuses for one of those.”

“There will be a time and a place for that, neither of which is now.”

“Then you’re hanging around here why?”

“Checking in on a friend.”

“Huh, I’m flattered,” Sora said flatly.

“Oh, you shouldn’t be.”

Sora’s irritation sputtered, his hand going slack.

“Excuse me?”

“What would be the point in finding you when you’re always looking for me?”

“You’re making it sound like I want to run into you,” Sora said, overly aghast.

“See? I told you I’ve been clear and concise.”

Sora brought his hands up in front of himself, waving them as if to build a barrier between him and Xehanort. He had this all backwards.

“I’ll be waiting for you to find me,” Xehanort continued, offering Sora no time to respond before he was stepping back into a developing corridor of darkness.

“This is different,” Sora called after him, still speaking as the darkness faded. “Business versus pleasure, that sort of thing!”

Silence, save for the echo of his own voice.

Fine. This was _fine_. Sora would do what he came for and then promptly prove to Xehanort that, no, he wasn’t dragging his feet. And no, he wasn’t following Xehanort around. Not on purpose, at least. Well, not on purpose because he wanted to.

The nuance ran deep.

Sora straightened up as he assured himself that he’d get the final word, not that it brought him any real joy to keep this chase up. The endgame wasn’t to vaporize Xehanort, just get him to chill on the doomsday attempts. Sora went so far as to figure they could probably even get along if Xehanort dropped the smarmy act and tried to be one iota less evil.

A tall order, but Riku had managed it.

Sora waited a long several seconds to be sure he was alone before he set off again. The sound of his plastic shoes tapped against the linoleum floor was muffled as he crept along, his path long and roundabout as he stuck close to the moulding to avoid drawing attention.

His heart leapt halfway up his throat as he rounded the corner to see a line of lights spring to life. They flashed green and pink, a row of stems that wiggled back and forth, topped off with flowered hair and fans they waved.

Aside from the click of their wiggles and the low drone of their battery, they were soundless.

Sora’s heart settled back into his chest as he continued on, eyes casting about at all moments as he kept his guard up. He nodded in acknowledgement as he passed his favorite frogs, turned off the part of his brain that wanted to lollygag as he passed a wall of doll-directed accoutrements.

What he couldn’t turn off was the realization he was approaching the platform that housed the Angelic Amber exhibit. His creeping came to a halt as he came closer, taking in what lay before him.

It was largely as he remembered it, composed of neutral creams and pinks, splashes of red where bouquets of roses resided. There were hat boxes and cushions, a dresser with a desk to match. Amidst it all was a single loveseat, a bright shade of salmon and printed with pale floral motifs.

Angelic Amber sat on it. Her back was straight and shoulders squared. Prim, proper. Hands folded neatly in her lap and not a ruffle out of place.

This wasn’t the same doll, Sora told himself. And even if it was, he’d personally seen to smacking the darkness out of it previously. The doll he was seeing now was still and empty, head turned towards the wide windows of the storefront.

When Sora squinted, he could see the game shop through them.

_Finally._

Sora leapt onto the platform, landing lightly on his feet as he began to jog the last stretch. He spared one last look at the doll on the couch as he passed, brow knitting as he took in her somber expression, the way her eyes stared down at him without focusing.

Sora stopped and stared back, his mind playing a lightning-quick game of ‘spot the difference.’

There were several, and all were upsetting. The one that registered most immediately was that her gaze had been level before, chin held high and regal. Her hands were no longer in her lap–instead, her palms braced against the cushion beneath her, her body angled forward and ready to spring.

Sora could see the dull ember-glow from the heartless insignia on her rabbit ear now, although that probably didn’t count as a difference.

“Wow,” he said. “Wow. I cannot believe I am seeing you again.”

It wasn’t a lie.

Amber didn’t move.

“What are the chances?” Sora said, floundering for words. Maybe he could talk her down this time. “I just ran into your, uh, your pal. Friend? Maker?”

Sora’s nose scrunched as he tested the different words, then scrunched more as he recalled why Xehanort was here.

_Visiting an old friend._

“I’m sure it was a nice visit. I’m the same way. Visiting, I mean. Taking a quick jaunt to the old game store, like you do. Anyway, great seeing you and all.”

Sora was halfway to waving when Amber surged forward, nothing more than a shocked squawk leaving his mouth as he turned to run. He made it inches before Amber flung herself on him, knocking them both to the floor.

The clatter of his own body rang in Sora’s ears, the scuff and scrape preceding the pain of impact. His little hands scrabbled against the ground and as he tried to drag himself out from beneath Amber, but she was weighty and solid, her dress trapping him.

He flailed and kicked the initial knee-jerk fear out of his body as he remained captured, seconds turning into minutes as he hit out in every direction. Amber remained in place, body limp and unyielding as it kept Sora pinned. When it dawned on him that her attack hadn’t gone further, he wondered what could come next.

Sora didn’t have to wonder long.

Amber began to move again as he stilled, her hands grasping at him as she righted herself. Her palms cupped stiffly around his waist as she lifted him up, his arms fastened to his sides within them. When his legs kicked at thin air, she held stronger.

“Easy please. I’m not exactly in mint condition,” Sora said. For all his plastic, he was still flesh and blood underneath. Or some kind of mix.

It hurt all the same.

Amber’s hold remained as she glided towards an open, expansive dollhouse. It had three floors and triple that in rooms, each one decorated with its own furniture set.

_That’s the doll that pig-penned me._

Sora barely had time to recall Hamm’s words before he was unceremoniously shoved into a kitchen, Amber’s hold lessening only enough to let him weasel his arms free.

“I’m not sure this is really my style,” Sora said, his lower body forcibly striking against the front of the stovetop. A frying pan with a printout of a pancake glued inside rattled atop it. “Maybe someone else would like this more?”

Sora twisted as best he could while restrained, neck craning to look around the room. There was an action figure at the table, an empty plate in front of it. It was tipped against the backboard of the chair, its arms held stiffly and lacking articulation. There were sharp, jagged stumps where its legs had been snapped off.

To say it was sitting would be generous.

“Actually, I could go for a quick meal,” Sora said nervously, looking away from the gruesome sight.

He grabbed at the handle of the tiny frying pan, scraping it against the laminate stovetop, staring at food that couldn’t cook. Amber tapped his feet against the floor as Sora tried to play along, going through the motions that Remy had taught him.

It hurt his hips to be bumped against the hard edges of the stove, his insides still human and soft despite his plastic appearance. He mulled over how he’d played with dolls as a child. Nice, basic families. Husband, wife, children. Basic.

Sora tried to hum his way through the experience, a weak attempt at being the type of happy housewife he’d been conditioned to recognize as a child. Bright, cheery, eager to please.

Seemingly satisfied with his cooking skills, Amber took to parading him around the kitchen, pan still in hand. Sora winced as his head was knocked against the ceiling, sharp pain shooting up his shins when his feet were jammed too hard against the floor as he was walked.

He hoped he’d never been this rough with his own toys.

Sora knocked over a chair as Amber brought him to the table, standing him centimeters away from the broken action figure. Sora held his frying pan to his chest as she tipped him forward, pressing his face to the figure’s with unexpected care.

A kiss?

When Amber held him there, he mustered a short peck.

She shook him for that.

“Alright, alright, sorry!” Sora said, brain rattling in his skull. “I’m still getting used to this, okay?”

She gave him a second chance.

In the face of being shaken again, Sora pressed his lips to the figure’s with a loud, theatrical smack. It smelled like chemicals and transferred dust to his lips. He wished it didn’t keep its eyes open the entire time.

Amber righted him. Good enough?

“So,” Sora said, staring at the figure. “Long day at work?”

Amber gave his waist a warning squeeze. He had to do better than this. Commit to the performance.

“I have dinner ready for you,” Sora ventured, shoulders brought in close as he shrugged in apology to them both. This was weird. “I’m sure you had a long day at the office. Leave it to me to… do stuff.”

Amber’s hold didn’t tighten, but it didn’t loosen. A mediocre evaluation.

Sticky discomfort rose in Sora’s throat as he cobbled together a one-sided script in his head. This wasn’t a very fun way of playing, captured and made to entertain an audience of one. He didn’t want to be forced to fit into the role of an object. Or a housewife.

But he wasn’t in a position to lecture a heartless on stereotypical gender roles or bodily autonomy. He was in a position to obey.

In lieu of real food to serve, Sora placed his frying plan on the empty dish before the figure. It was too big, but the figure didn’t mind.

“Steak and mashed potatoes,” Sora lied enthusiastically. “Your favorite. And you earned it after getting the Johnson account. Now if you don’t mind, I have some cleaning to do.”

Amber pushed his face against the figure again. Sora kissed it for the second time. It wasn’t any easier than the first.

Sora was next moved to a living room packed tightly with furniture. Chairs, couches, three fish in identical fishbowls. A single TV.

He breathed in relief when Amber set him on his feet near the couch, his midsection aching from her extended grip. He stretched his arms over his head, happy to be standing on his own at last. Until Amber was touching him again. Not grabbing this time, not squeezing. But plucking at him with her fingers.

He’d never seen them move before, let alone separate and reach. Now, they had too many joints.

He was stricken as they touched him, thin and crawling. Roving, invasive and exploratory. She felt out his articulations and tested them.

Sora hated it.

It was worse than being walked around. His body was being manipulated into place, skin crawling with every new change, a mix of joints and screws and muscles pushed and pulled by another’s whims. He tried not to resist, to grit his teeth and endure it, but fear made him shake and squirm.

She bent and fixed his body to her liking after every round of wriggling, resetting it to her preference again and again until Sora ran out of steam. He found his legs bent at the hip and knee, the purpose clear as Amber placed him on a couch and unhanded him.

For the first time since he saw her, he looked at her face. It was uncomfortably close, eyes wide open and leering, unblinking. Observing. Sora swallowed and averted his gaze, switching to the TV in front of him. He could still catch the color of Amber’s eyes in his periphery.

There was nothing on the TV to distract him, just the tacky residue of a sticker that had been peeled away. Sora worried his lower lip as he stared at it, racking his mind for what Amber wanted to see from him.

He tried laughing first, booing next. Pretended to react to the nothingness before him, glancing to Amber as he did to gauge what she wanted.

But she gave no sign that his actions mattered to her now, her face remaining close and eyes fixed on him. Maybe it was good enough to sit and look nice for her. Better to conserve what energy he had left in the hopes of making a break for it later.

Sora stopped using his eyes altogether as he ruminated over his situation. Where did Xehanort get off bringing Amber back to hassle him? Sora was a busy guy with worlds to save and friends to protect. And photos of video game characters to take. He couldn’t spend all this time being a plaything.

The fear in him was ebbing, annoyance bubbling up in the empty spot it left. Who was Amber to keep him here? Every second he spent here was a win for Xehanort, and he wasn’t going to put up with that.

“Show’s over,” Sora announced, getting to his feet.

Amber didn’t grab him this time. Merely reached for him, easily wrapping her hand around his waist.

“No, not the TV show. This whole thing, it’s over. I have to get going, okay?” Sora said, trying to keep his tone calm in the face of his oncoming mood swing.

Amber didn’t let go.

Sora’s irritation flared at her lack of acknowledgement, and he swallowed hard as he kept his mouth shut and hands still. Striking her would be ineffectual at best, escalatory at worse. She was the enemy here, but in the abstract. His problem was with Xehanort.

Sora breathed out through his nose as he tamped down his souring feelings. Maybe he needed to see things from her view.

Which was… what?

Brought back to consciousness by a badnik, left alone only to naturally seek out toys for company.

He felt sorry for her.

“We can go for a few more minutes,” Sora compromised. “But then I have to go for real.”

Amber gave no indication she agreed to his terms as she moved him to a small room on the third floor. It was barely big enough for a bed, a toy snake covered in shining fabric for scales lying on the mattress. Its tail hung over the edge.

This wouldn’t be too bad, Sora figured. Having a lie down? He could do that and fake-snore with the best of them. This was the home stretch now, the end of his ordeal in sight. The rising relief was enough to make him want to hug the snake toy as Amber laid him directly on top of it.

Except instead of letting go, she pushed him down. Mushed him flat against the toy, its insides squashed under Sora momentarily before Amber relieved the pressure on him.

“Gentle,” Sora told her. “You have to be more careful--”

The remainder of his instructions were muffled as she pressed him flush to the toy again, harder this time. Sora pushed his hands beneath him in an attempt to create distance, but his strength was negligible in comparison. He had to wait until Amber let up again.

She did, predictably. And then as predictably, pressed him down.

Kisses, right. Kisses for his kitchen husband, kisses for his snake husband. Nothing he couldn’t handle. He screwed his eyes shut and planted a kiss on the snake, dramatic as the last one that satisfied Amber.

“I did the thing,” Sora called out, words timed between Amber’s rhythm. “We can stop now.”

It changed nothing. Amber continued to press him down again and again. Worse than before, where it had been only his face, she now pushed his entire body against the toy. It was soft and gave easily, its fabric slippery against Sora’s casing.

The back and forth made Sora motion sick, head spinning and limbs close to going slack as it went on. There was a dawning realization emerging from his jumbled thoughts as time went on, the act he was being put through. It came to him in full when Amber slowed to rub his body in full against the toy.

“That’s enough!” Sora said, voice cracking as he cried out. “I want to stop, I don’t want to keep playing--”

Sora’s breath stuck in his throat as Amber grinded Sora’s hips down on the toy, his legs parting as it fit nicely between his thighs. The fabric was smooth against his crotch, lacking friction as Amber forced him to hump at it.

The embarrassment from before was back, and its plus one was shame. The tears came hot and fast as he slapped uselessly at Amber’s hand, though his hips twitched and his thighs clamped down on the toy.

Despite the flat surface his crotch had become, it still felt good to have it touched. The sparks of excitement and warmth still arose, pushing him closer to _something_.

The tears kept coming, but he stopped trying to break free of Amber. He worked in time with her hand instead, moving his hips to meet the toy beneath with each downward push. The warmth in him stoked and grew hotter, reaching new heights without peaking.

Sora was relentless in his pursuit, pushed on by desperation. A need to feel something good, something nice. Something that could block out the shame for even a few short seconds. The longer he went on, the more apparent it was that climax was not an end he could reach.

“I’m not done yet,” Sora said, shocked to his senses when Amber pulled him back. “I need to play a little more. Not a lot, promise!”

When she began to carry him back to the loveseat, his tears became those of frustration. He was still nothing more than a toy, a thing to be played with to her content and not his own.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, here's the second (much more light-hearted) part.

Though Virgil had spoken of nine circles in Hell, there was a tenth one never touched on. Sora was living it now, stuck between a girl’s thighs and unable to move.

The journey itself had been a blur, Sora's frame still hot and uncomfortable after being forced to dry hump that stuffed snake. He was still focused on finishing when Amber took him away. She’d made for her exhibit without acknowledging his pleas to be returned for a moment more, retaking her spot on the loveseat that Sora had first noticed her on.

It was with disconcerting poise that she lifted the hemline of her skirt with her free hand, the picture of grace and trained etiquette as she nestled Sora’s squirming body between her legs before rearranging her dress over him.

When he continued to squirm, she brought her legs snuggly together. Made him rub against the hard resin of her inner thighs, his face pushed up against her panties. They were a blurry shade of white and edged with lace, a diminutive satin bow on the front.

From where Sora’s nose was pressed, it seemed that her body was smooth beneath.

At least they were in that boat together.

Sora lay enclosed by her legs for a long time, the space too narrow for him to move in. He was stuck on his stomach with his arms at his sides, remaining face-first in Amber’s crotch as he waited for a chance to wriggle free.

The waiting was in vain.

The ambient electric hums of the store and roaming of heartless gave way to storefronts unlocking and employees clocking in. They bustled around the store as they readied it for opening, talking amongst themselves as they went over new releases and sales goals to be met.

“Well don’t you look happy today,” an employee said, voice near enough to make Sora flinch.

“I don’t know how you can tell,” said another. “She looks the same as always.”

“There’s a certain something,” the first insisted. “Maybe if you paid her a little more attention you’d notice.”

“Oh, of course. I’ll put that on my to-do list. Right after I finish scraping every wad of gum off the floor.”

The employees retreated after that, ribbing one another until customers filtered in.

It was going to be a long day.

Sora’s attention faded in and out as it passed, coming to when people spoke near him. Admiring, observing. Never touching. His arm began to numb over from being trapped for so long, his vision strained from being too close to focus on anything.

His discomfort from earlier remained. The red-hot need dulled, but never left. It remained a steady constant in the back of his mind, a simmering sort of frustration as he replayed the night over and over in his head.

None of this was helped by his position. His senses were filled with Amber. From the pressure of her thighs to the cotton and chemical scent of her clothes, she was there. Having his cheek resting against the front of her panties was an additional reminder.

He took a deep breath before sighing his resignation.

Amber shifted.

The movement was short and discreet, but Sora noticed it. Couldn’t help but doing so, really. It wouldn’t be easy to ignore that she’d tucked her hips under, closer now as Sora no longer rested his cheek but had it closely pressed now.

Amber was a doll, but a heartless as well. Sora knew from experience that heartless could be as sensitive as any person, and with needs they wanted met just as much. Her lack of outward anatomy didn’t necessarily change that.

Sora remained with his face against Amber as the day passed, neck beginning to ache from being held at such a stiff angle. His breathing went on slow and steady, his mouth open as he exhaled. It gave him a kick whenever he caught her shifting again.

By the time he heard the doors being locked, there was a wet spot on the front of Amber’s panties from the warm humidity of his own breath. He gave a cursory swipe of his tongue along the spot, the cotton dry and tasteless.

Amber sprung to life.

Her dress was hiked up in a flash, eyes bright and focused on Sora as he blinked up at her blearily after being stuck in darkness for so long. There was no hesitation before she grabbed him, laying him out flat on the loveseat as she got to her knees.

Sora had many wet dreams in his time. Dreams about pussy? Check. Dreams about heartless? Double check.

Dreams about heartless pussy?

Too many checks there.

None of them had prepared him for having his face sat on by an animate doll.

Everything went dark as Amber lowered herself, legs spread on either side of Sora’s head, steady on her knees as she lowered herself onto him. The fabric he’d previously made damp was now smothering his face as Amber began to rock.

Her movements were short and jerky with excitement, the hem of her dress shaking as it was gathered in her hands. Sora reached down with his own now that they were free, clattering them frantically against his crotch as he rubbed along it to find the right spots.

There was a lot to choose from.

Sora bucked into his own touch as Amber grinded against his face. She made it hard to breath, but when he opened his mouth for more air he forgot what he was doing in the face of his own desire. His tongue lolled out to lick at Amber through her panties, even when it made his tongue turn dry.

She pushed down harder in turn, limbs clicking as she fucked his face. It sent him back to wondering if he could get off– if either of them could get off. It mattered less now to him. Amber wanted to play, and he wanted to be played with.

Maybe there were other heartless that wanted to play as well.


End file.
